


quarantine at 221b

by rory_kent



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: COVID-19, Coronavirus, Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jealous Sherlock, John Watson is a Bit Not Good, John Watson is a Saint, Light Angst, M/M, Mrs. Hudson can't work technology, Parentlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock is a Good Parent, Snails, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, famlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 10:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_kent/pseuds/rory_kent
Summary: Things are getting stressful as the Holmes-Watson family shelters in place
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	1. slow mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Just a little drabble...Rosie is about 4.5~5 in this fic, Sherlock and John are husbands

21 March, 2020

Rosamund Mary Watson Holmes poked Sherlock awake. He fluttered his eyes open and smiled wide. She was wearing her pyjamas, and she was awake. Sherlock sat up sleepily as she made grabby hands from her spot on the floor by his bed. He obliged and pulled her into his arms and sat for a bit, looking over her back to check the clock. 8:35. John was probably already midway through his shift at the hospital. Sherlock’s jaw tensed as Rosie began to squirm and planted a kiss on his forehead. He hadn’t felt John’s morning kisses in two weeks. He gave Rosie a terse smile. Time to get up. Sherlock put an arm under Rosie and scooped her up as they began the day. He pulled his phone off the nightstand and texted John one handed. 

good morning john -SH

I miss you -SH

Loads -SH

“Locccky, you’re gonna draaawp me!” Rosie giggled as Sherlock typed distractedly. Sherlock smiled, slipped his phone in his dressing gown pocket and swung Rosie through the air with both hands under her arm-pits. She squealed and swatted at Sherlock. She eventually put both arms out and made whooshing sounds. 

“Watson coming in for a landing,” Sherlock plopped the 4.5-year-old on the wooden floor. 

“Locky’s silly,” Rosie shook her head dramatically and waddled to the sofa as Sherlock served himself tea from Mrs. Hudson’s usual tray. Sherlock wore the name  _ Locky  _ like a medal on his chest. Daddy John Watson and Locky Sherlock Holmes. He took a sip and leaned his back against the bench by the window, watching as his daughter clicked buttons on the remote. Somehow she’d opened to the news channel and was watching with wide eyes. 

“ _...deaths related to the pandemic are quickly escalating, and we are expecting an address by the Prime Minister shortly…”  _ The woman on the telly’s voice was that sedate voice of television corresponding. Rosie didn’t seem upset, and her eyebrows furrowed in thought. 

“Daddy.” She pointed to the screen and looked at Sherlock intently. They were intersplicing b-roll of doctors and hospitals and signs saying things like “we love you, healthcare workers!” Sherlock’s chest ached and he cursed it. He cursed his stupid domesticity. He felt like a WLA girl with her husband off to war. Sherlock Holmes three years ago would never feel things like this. Feelings were a messy business. He stared blankly at Rosie for a moment.  _ Messy, yes. Worth the mess? Definitely.  _

“Wha-I-yes, yes they’re talking about daddy. Daddy’s working very hard to keep us safe, love,” Sherlock plucked Rosie and sat her on his lap as they sat on the sofa. Sherlock swallowed. Holed up here with Rosie and Mrs. Hudson wasn’t  _ so  _ awful. After the initial stroppy cabin-fever, Mrs. Hudson’s rooftop gardening idea had actually seemed to work, and he thought perhaps when this was over they’d be able to keep bees up there, like at his nan’s house. Yes, definitely. John would be so handsome in one of those costumes with the net like a bridal veil. Of course their wedding had been entirely veil-less, but the imagery was pleasing in an old-fashioned way. God, marriage had corrupted him. Ruined him. These soppy johnthoughts were a virus in his mind. ‘ _ No, not a virus, software. Yes, software that took the data from the hard drive and worked it into something new.’  _ Brainjohn lulled to him sweetly. 

“Locky, when is daddy gon’ be home?” Rosie mumbled into his neck as she sat. Moments like this seemed in slow motion with her around. She slowed Sherlock’s mind, a feat only set precedent by her daddy.

“I don’t know,” Sherlock said honestly, turning Rosie so she could see the screen as he switched the channel to CBBC.  _ Arthur rerun. Rosie’s third favorite programme. _ She didn’t press further on the subject as she watched the telly. Sherlock sighed. He nudged her off his lap and pulled his phone out. 

[NEW MESSAGE from graham lestrade]

Sending you a case. John told me not to but we’re out of our depth. Man found dead, tox screen clear, only marks he was drawn all over in tipex. Help us?

Sherlock bit his lip and stared at the screen. John had told him no cases. Experiments? Ambiguous on that score. Nicotine patches? Fine, but only one. Leaving the flat? Not under any circumstances. Not with Mrs. Hudson and Rosie here. Well, that wasn’t  _ technically  _ no cases. 

Send evidence to 221b -SH

[NEW MESSAGE to john]

you are the love of my life. -SH


	2. you're...leaving?

~two weeks earlier~

Sherlock had been peacefully between sleep and wakefulness, drawing lazy circles on John’s bare chest while John looked through his phone before bed. He could feel the tense strain on his deltoid muscles. And practically hear the grinding of his teeth. 

“You are concerned.” Sherlock stated as he sat up properly, his hands still pressed lightly on John’s skin. He would never stop touching if he could help it. Not after so many years of proper distance. 

“Yeah I’m bloody concerned, Sherlock, this is getting out of hand.”

“Coronavirus?” John nodded as he continued to glare at his phone. His distress had set Sherlock’s skin on edge. Nothing and nobody upsets John. Not without upsetting the world’s only consulting detective. “No cases in the UK yet.” He mumbled

“For now Sherlock. I- I want to take Rosie out of school for the rest of the year, I doubt it’ll stay open anyways. And I want you guys to quarantine. Mrs. Hudson’s vulnerable, and we don’t know much about it at all and if something happened to her, or to Rosie, or to,” John swallowed, seeming to will his voice to keep calm “or to you, love, I couldn’t live with myself.” Sherlock was awake now. He sat up and cocked his head. 

“You guys? You- you’re not going to stay with us,” Sherlock said slowly, eyes going soft. 

“No. I’m not,” Sherlock opened his mouth to protest and John tutted. “No, Sherlock, I’m a doctor. I help people. And there are going to be a lot of sick people, and there’s no way in hell I could just go back and forth, Sherlock, not even if you doused me in bleach. I should stay with Sarah.” Sherlock’s heart sputtered. Sarah? John gone. John leaving to stay with Sarah. Not good. Not good at all. Sherlock felt himself slipping, shaking, but he nodded. “I love you, Sherlock, I love you more than anything.” John pressed a soft kiss into Sherlock’s curls. “I don’t think I’ll come home from work tomorrow. I should pack some clothes for Sarah’s.” John swung his legs over the bed as he ruffled through the dresser. Sherlock let out a whine and flopped over to watch. 

“But, Rosie. She needs you.” Sherlock’s voice was small and needy. John sighed and looked at his husband. His arrogant, self-conscious, vulnerable husband. John’s eyes could slice through it. Sherlock was scared. Scared of being alone. Scared of John leaving. The silvery blonde doctor leaned in and pressed a firm kiss to his forehead. 

“She’ll be fine, because she knows that daddy always comes back.” John whispered. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. John nibbled a bit at his lip before pulling away slowly “Sleep now, Sherlock, and we’ll have a lovely breakfast before I go, alright? I’ll be out early at the shops, so I might not be here when you wake up.” John’s deep commanding voice and strong hands carding through Sherlock’s hair lulled him asleep almost instantly in that magical way he did. Visions of John with magic glowing hands filled his dreams. John soon fell asleep next to him, holding on to Sherlock for the last time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2! poor sherlock :(


	3. I'd be lost without my assistant

23 March 11:23am

“Hoo hoo,” Mrs. Hudson poked her head in the door and burst out a laugh at the sight in the upstairs flat. A large fort made entirely of blankets, pillows, the two desk chairs (sporting the union jack John kept tucked in the upstairs closet) filled up the entirety of the sitting room. Leave it to those two to make the Tower of London of blanket forts. Martha knelt down and poked open the entrance. The inside was lit by the Christmas fairy lights, and the two Holmes-Watsons were reading,  _ Madeline  _ and  _ Encyclopedia of Ink and Pen-Making  _ respectively. Rosie was clad in her yellow dungarees and two lopsided pigtails and Sherlock was wearing his usual posh black button down and dressing gown. “Hello Rosie, Sherlock dear, package’s come for you.” Sherlock sat up and clambered out of the fort. He stopped mid way through the room before gracefully kneeling back down to look Rosie straight in the eyes. 

“You’re in charge of the ship while I’m gone, Watson,” 

“Aye Aye, locky!” Rosie gave a crisp salute and then flopped back down on her tummy to keep reading. Sherlock’s lips turned up in a smile as he headed downstairs. He slipped on the gloves and grabbed the disinfectant wipes before opening the door. He wiped off the package and opened it. A note at the top.  _ Stay safe Sherlock -Greg.  _ Sherlock’s mind was blank for a moment at who that was. Greg...oh wait Lestrade! Evidence! CASE!

Inside was a memory stick of photos, along with a dozen or so glass jars of hair, skin, and blood samples, and the man’s personal effects. Sherlock was positively giddy. He pulled the box into his arms and made his way up the stairs. He deposited the evidence on the kitchen bench and sighed happily. He glanced over to see Rosie watching him intently, book folded in her lap.  _ CASE.  _ he thought,  _ dead bodies and conspiracies and tipex... _ but that sweet grin that looked exactly like John broke his resolve. He shook his head and opened the fridge. They were out of milk. He smiled forlornly at the memories and took stock of what food they had and didn’t have. John had gotten them loads ( _ loads) _ of shopping two weeks prior- they had even had to store extra beans next to the toilet roll in the closet ( _ loads of that too) _ . They were really done to the basics now that the produce was gone… they were dwindling to the last of the tea. Sherlock let out a tired sigh and pulled out his phone. No messages from John. 

**[NEW MESSAGE To cake man]**

**We need food and can’t leave the flat. Can you arrange something? -SH**

**Afraid of germs, brother dear?**

**I’m not afraid. -SH**

**John told me not to leave the flat -SH**

**Ah, quite obedient, I see.**

**Shut up -SH**

**I’ll send you the list. -SH**

**I’ll see what I can do, you know I’m quite busy trying to handle a worldwide panic at the moment.**

**Panic? You mean pandemic -SH**

**Panic. You’ve become so pedestrian, brother mine.**

**Go ahead and stay home like the dutiful little housewife and I’ll send Anthea.**

Sherlock grimaced and gripped his phone tightly before slipping it in his pocket. ‘ _ You should’ve said thank you,’  _ Brainjohn said softly, and Sherlock waved him away before rejoining his landlady and daughter in the sitting room. Mrs. H was sitting daintily on one of the supporting chairs, gabbing incessantly about her schoolgirl days and Rosie only continued reading. 

“Rosamund we have evidence to analyze” Her sweet blue eyes popped up and she nodded feverishly before crawling out of the fort. 

“Oh, now Sherlock, that's not quite age-appropriate, is it?” Mrs. Hudson said worriedly.

“I’d be lost without my assistant. Besides, I’m  _ homeschooling _ ” Mrs. Hudson tutted a bit and mumbled something Sherlock quickly deleted but hobbled downstairs anyway. Rosie fetched her pink goggles and crawled up to one of the stools. Sherlock handed over her apron and she fumbled with the ties. He put on his own protective equipment. With Rosie around, Sherlock found himself quite zealous about lab safety. 

“Alright, put a drop of this on four seperate slides,” Sherlock handed Rosie a dropper and the first vial of blood. He popped the lid open and she laboriously drew it up into the dropper. Sherlock watched her intently as she held the dropper with two hands. He set the slides out for her and she laboriously dripped it out, albeit a bit more than was necessary, but Sherlock felt an involuntary smile on his lips. “Good girl.” She smiled and shakily poured the rest of the dropper back into the vial. He fumbled in the box and pulled out the ten brands of permanent marker Lestrade had included. That was actually quite a helpful liberty and the old sherlock was mocking him in his mind for noticing. Sherlock pulled out the filter papers and had Rosie draw a straight line of pen across each one. Really, what a splendid case indeed to introduce his protege to a basic chromatography experiment. They set it up on the bench and Rosie's eyes widened as the ink crawled up the paper a bit. 

“Now we wait for that to finish.” Rosie looked at him quizzically. “Capillary action, Watson. Observe, the holes in the paper pull the water up because of the surface tension.” Rosie nodded slowly. 

“Surface ten- surface tension?”

“Yes. Surface tension. It’s an effect of the bonds inside the water. Bonds are what hold the molecules of water to the other molecules of water, and they don’t like to be far apart so they hold on tight to each other, and so the water in the ink gets pulled up the paper, and as it goes, it deposits the other parts of the ink in sections on the paper based on their weight.” Rosie nodded again. “It will be more evident later. Now let’s get to the good stuff.” Rosie clapped her hands a bit as he pulled out a pipette and leaned across the bench towards the blood samples. 


	4. john is a bit not good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John finally talk!

3:45pm 

Sherlock sighed as he gracefully came down the stairs from Rosie’s room after putting her down for her nap. How his husband and daughter had the tolerance for such copious amounts of sleep was beyond him. Filed neatly under  _ weird things about john,  _ sub section  _ bodily functions _ . He plopped down in his chair before he heard the buzzer ring. He flopped his head back and almost ignored it before he heard Mrs. H shuffling towards the door. He was up in a beat. 

“Stop! No Mrs. Hudson, I’ll get it!” He stumbled to the landing and raced down the stairs. Hudders looked at him imperviously, raising an eyebrow. 

“Simmer down, Sherlock there’s nobody there, someone’s just left some shopping.” She shuffled back into her flat giving Sherlock a hard look. He didn’t mind. He fetched the disinfectant spray and got to work bringing in the bags of shopping. He lugged it all upstairs and began unpacking, avoiding the samples still awaiting analysis.  _ God, Sherlock, what a good mummy you are.  _ He tried to shush his mind but the awful truth began to gurgle in his stomach. He longed for the days he could hide it all under a facade of cool apathy. The caring lark had crawled inside of him and had torn him to bits. The feelings wouldn’t be silenced anymore.  _ Pedestrian.  _ Shut up!  _ Pathetic.  _ Shut up shut up shut up. Sherlock tried to collect himself. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out in a snap. 

**[NEW MESSAGE from john]**

**ILYSM. Just finished my shift. Totally knackered. Can’t facetime tonight. I’ll call tomorrow. Take care of yourself Sherlock. Take care of Rosie.**

**Rosie’s kipped down, can you facetime quickly now? -SH**

**[INCOMING FACETIME CALL]**

John Watson was beyond tired. Bags under his eyes, skin tight and wrinkled around his forehead and eyes, along with deep bruises around his cheeks and along the bridge of his nose. He gave Sherlock a strained smile. He was wearing earbuds and was clearly at Sarah’s apartment. 

“Hi John,” Sherlock said meekly, staring in shock at his phone. This didn’t look like John. He must have seen the shock in Sherlock’s eyes. 

“Scary, huh?” He said solemnly, eyes deep and stormy. Sherlock shook his head vigorously. 

“No, John.” John cocked an eyebrow and it shuddered through Sherlock. “Alright, maybe a little scary. The mask, does that to your face?” John nodded and itched the back of his neck. 

“How’s Rosie?” 

“Perfect, John. She’s-” He stopped and looked around, “She’s just like you, John.” 

“What’d you do today?” John sighed, eating a sandwich on the other side of the call. His only meal so far today. “Burn the flat down?” Sherlock didn’t have to laugh at that. In fact he really shouldn’t have. But to hear even a teeny piece of the old john let out a deep chuckle from his chest, and a genuine smile from John. 

“No, we built a fort, and, uh, we did homeschool.” John cocked an eyebrow again and took a bite. 

“Homeschool?” He said suspiciously. 

“Lestrade sent us some evidence for a case, Rosamund’s learning her lab skills.” 

“Sherlock.” John scrubbed his face. “You can’t be doing cases right now. Or experiments. What if one of you got hurt? A&E’s packed and full of sick people Sherlock, that’s irresponsible.” 

“It was just analysi-”

“No. No more Sherlock. Stick to telly and books and forts, no cases.” Sherlock paused and swallowed thickly before nodding. 

“Yes, John.” He mumbled. John sighed, and the disappointment in his voice made Sherlock’s stomach drop. “Are you okay, John?”

“It is what it is.” John said with a terse smile. “Alright, I need to sleep now. I’m on the 9o’clock tonight, we’re so understaffed. Bye Sherlock.”

“Love y-”

**[FACETIME CALL ENDED]**

Sherlock sat glumly for a while, deep in his mind palace, trying to think of his happyjohn memories. Smiles over solved crimes and dinners-at-Angelos, smiles when he bought the milk, smiles when he had lulled Rosie to sleep. But the smiles kept fading into angryjohn and annoyedjohn and worse, disapointedjohn. He shuddered as the memories overtook him. 

“IS THIS?” he hit him. “A GAME?” he hit him again. Over and over until Sherlock was sure he was going to die. He tried to shake the dream away but he couldn’t wake up, he couldn’t wake up, and John was hitting him, John  _ hated  _ him. Hated him for his stupid games and his stupid expiriments and his stupid deductions. He was pathetic to John. Pathetic. Murderer. He let out a sob. Molly’s voice, “anyone but you, he’d rather have anyone but you,” He felt something on his wrist, somebody was touching him. John checking his pulse on the pavement. He opened his eyes to tell John that he was alive, that he’s not dead, I’m not dead! But it wasn’t those stormy dark eyes waiting for him. A halo of golden curls tucked up into messy pigtails and a look of pure terror, her little fingers wrapping around his wrist. 

“L-Lock-ky?” Oh Jesus. Sherlock scooped Rosie up.

“Shh, Shh, I’m sorry, Rosie I'm here, I’m so sorry to scare you,” He soothed as she gripped the back of his dressing gown in her tiny hands. 

“You had, bad dream?” She said softly into his ear, and he nodded. 

“Yes, just a bad dream. We’re both okay now, love,” He rocked her back and forth as they both cooled down. “How was your sleep?”

“It was okay.” She sighed and they sat down into Sherlock’s arm chair. “Can we finish our anawasis?” She said hopefully, eyes bright. She reminded him of her mum a lot.

“No, daddy said no more experiments.” Rosie let out a whine. 

“But daddy won’t knoooww,” She gave him her best puppy eyes but he shook his head and placed her on the floor. 

“No, Rosamund,” She stomped her foot and Sherlock coked an eyebrow, trying his absolute hardest to be the bad cop. She whined and crawled into their fort. A muffled sob came from inside.

“Rosie? Rosie, please, don’t be sad, daddy only wants us to be safe,” His voice was doing it’s bloody hardest not to crack. Bad cop, bad cop, bad cop. 

“I hate daddy!” Sherlock’s breath hitched. Rosie shoved one of the chairs of the fort and it began to crumple. She thrashed and destroyed it. Sherlock let her. Once he was quite certain one more blow would collapse the entire structure upon her, he scooped her into his arms, and she thrashed and wriggled in his grasp.

“Shh, let’s just calm down, Bee,” Sherlock tried to soothe her but she only wailed in his ear. He grimaced but continued to hold her, even trying John’s famous blow-on-her-face-and-she-stops-crying trick but it wouldn’t work. “Baby girl, please, why don’t we get you a biscuit, alright? It’s teatime anyway,” Watson only replied with a sharp slap across Sherlock’s face. The initial sting was followed by a pregnant silence. Sherlock felt a darkness filling his chest (she was prone to the occasional swat at the playground when kids were unfair, or taking her anger out on cutlery, but never  _ never _ had she hit Sherlock) and he set her down immediately. Her mouth was open and she stared blankly at her hand. She looked up to Sherlock with a look of pure guilt, cheeks still red and blustery. He didn’t say anything, and before he could she ran down to the naughty step and began to sniffle, loudly. Sherlock was stunned into silence. 

“Tea?” He whispered a few minutes later as he settled onto the naughty step next to Rosie and handed her John’s RAMC mug. It was Rosie’s special decaffeinated blend with a spoonful of sugar like her Locky. She gratefully took it in both hands, looking down solemnly. 

“I’m sowwy,” She said finally, looking down into her tea, plopping it with her finger and watching the ripples. Sherlock sipped at his own cuppa and nodded. “Does it hurt?” She said, and Sherlock held back the smile creeping upon his lips. 

“No, Rosie, I’m alright.” He eyed her nervously. A pause. “I’m, I’m sad about the experiment rule too.” Her eyes were wide but she nodded. That made sense. 

“I don’t understand.” Rosie looked solemn still. “I don’t understand at all.”

Sherlock only nodded and opened his arms and she clung to him gratefully. 

“Do you want to go up in the garden?” She shook her head and tucked her chin on his shoulder. He hummed in response. “Watch telly?” Shook her head again. “Rebuild the fort?” A soft  _ mmhmm _ was whispered into his shoulder and he smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this is a bit ooc for Sherlock, but after s4, I feel like he's mellowed and begun to embrace his soft side, especially with Rosie. Please leave comments and suggestions!! I love you all so very much <3


	5. For Queen and Country

It was a few hours later that Mrs. Hudson had joined them upstairs. She sat snuggly under a blanket in John’s armchair while him and Rosie were in their new and improved fort and playing knights. Hudders was always the Queen (with a lovely paper crown to prove it), Sherlock the dragon, and Rosie the knight to slay him. John would probably admonish Sherlock for letting Rosie play with swords, but Sherlock stuffed the thought away. Brainjohn was starting to get on his nerves. 

“Stand back, foul beast!” Rosie pointed her sword at his nose and Sherlock made an evil grin. “I’ll cut up your shell into a million pieces if you don’t leave my queen alone!” Sherlock dropped out of character and made a face. 

“Shell?!” He cried and Rosie giggled and pointed to their open book of knights, particularly an illustration of quite a large snail fighting a man with a sword. “But, but-” Mrs. Hudson hissed at him and he sighed, very slowly scoothing away, ever-so-slowly before snatching Mrs. H’s crown and making a dash for it. 

“H-HEy! Snails aren’t fast!” Rosie giggled as she chased him through the flat and Mrs. Hudson struggled to open her phone to the camera function. 

“I swear this bloody thing, I just want a simple photo and-”

“Big snail’s coming to get you, Dame Rosamund!” Sherlock turned around and scooped her into his arms. “Now I’ve got you and I’ll hide you in my lair forever!” She giggled up a fit, Martha snapped a photo just in time, and spent half a minute struggling to send it to John. They all soon collapsed into giggles and decided to watch a film instead. Some japanese film about a girl and a fish and it was all rather a blur as Sherlock took in his lovely family. Hudders, left giggly by her evening soother, rambling about stories from her youth, and some stories John would have a fit about Rosie hearing. Oh, yes, Rosie. Perfect, perfect, Rosie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluffiest fluff i've ever fluffing writen


	6. Honesty

\------------------------------ bed time

“Locky?” 

“Yes, watson?” Sherlock pulled the bumblebee duvet over her shoulders and tucked her in. 

“When is daddy coming home?” Sherlock swallowed and crouched by the side of her bed. He took in all her features with cat-like eyes and read  _ scared.  _

“You don’t need to be scared.”

“M’not scared,” She grumbled, tucking her arms under her pillow and laying on her tummy, unceremoniously  _ un _ tucking. She sounded like John. 

“I know.” Sherlock said, looking at her with his heart on his sleeve.  _ I will never love anything else as much as I love you.  _ “I’m a bit scared actually.”

“What?” Rosie sat up suddenly and Sherlock eased her shoulders back down as she huffed. “Scared? Of what?”

“These are scary times, Rosie, I’m sure it’ll all blow over, it will,” he paused, biting his lip. “I miss your daddy. I wish he didn’t have to be gone.” He said honestly, fiddling with his fingers. He was a child too really, on the inside. The Sherlock that had been beaten out of him, scolded out of him, tortured out of him was his only offering to Rosie. He had promised he would never lie to Rosamund Mary Watson Holmes. Not ever. Not once. 

“I wish he was home too.” Rosie said softly, and Sherlock reached for her stuffed Hedgehog. She clutched it tight to her chest and closed her eyes. Sherlock planted a soft kiss on her golden hair before sitting up and tucking her in once more. 

“Goodnight, Rosamund.”

“Ni-ni, Lock”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this fic finds you well <3  
> comments and suggestions are most appreciated!


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